


The Verge of Jordan

by live_laugh_read



Series: Billabong Missing Moments [32]
Category: Billabong Series - Mary Grant Bruce
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/live_laugh_read/pseuds/live_laugh_read
Summary: In 1978, Wally Meadows finds himself at the edge of night, the world fading behind him as the Cross begins to open up. The Promised Land, and Calvary, awaits.
Relationships: Norah Linton/Wally Meadows
Series: Billabong Missing Moments [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/392605
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Verge of Jordan

The bedroom was dark, shadows dancing on the walls, cast by a bedside lamp. Outside, the sun was hovering just below the hills, creating an orange glow on the western horizon. 

In a chair beside the bed, Norah slipped a bookmark into her copy of  _ Jane Eyre _ , one of her favourite novels, and set it aside on the bedside table. She leaned forward to take Wally’s hand, feeling his fingers tighten about hers, seeing his eyes flutter open and land on her.

His eyesight was beginning to decline, and he could see little else but her outline - the beloved sweep of her now-grey hair which he knew so well. Despite this, he knew she was smiling at him, a soft, gentle smile. 

“Have you had a good nap?” she asked, and he hummed a yes. “Nurse came in to check your temperature. She says that you are relatively back to normal now.” 

“Was I ever abnormal?” he asked, rather severely, and the corners of his mouth twitched when he elicited a laugh from her. “You had better watch your words carefully, young Norah.” 

Then he asked her to tell him where she was up to in her novel, and she explained the plot to him - even though they had both read it before, and had had this conversation in years gone by - because she knew he liked listening to the sound of her voice. 

When they fell silent, the last of the sun’s rays had faded, leaving a black outline of the hills visible in the distance. There was a humming noise from outside, the hallmark of the Australian cicada on any mild summer night. 

Wally turned his head once more to look at Norah, and felt her squeeze his hand comfortingly. His weak eyes searched her face, committing it to memory the way he had done a thousand times before. And then his eyes widened a fraction - for behind Norah, at her shoulder, stood a tall woman. She was clothed in white, black hair falling about her shoulders, brown eyes gentle as she smiled upon him. 

His mother. 

She had come to fetch him home at last. 

“Sing to me,” he murmured, looking back at Norah, who did not seem to have noticed his momentary panic. “I feel rather sleepy again.” 

And so she sang, and with each line his eyes drooped a little further until they slid shut, and the grip on her hand slackened. 

_ “Guide me, O Thou great Redeemer -  _

_ Pilgrim through this barren land. _

_ I am weak, but Thou art mighty; _

_ Hold me with Thy powerful hand. _

_ Bread of Heaven, bread of Heaven, _

_ Feed me now and ever more. _

_ Feed me now and ever more.” _

In his dream, Wally stood in total darkness. And then there was a bright light behind him, and he turned to see the shadow of a cross rising before him. Behind it, he could see a flash of green, and blue skies stretching on forever.

And still he heard Norah singing, her gentle voice accompanying him as he walked with ever-increasing confidence toward the Promised Land.

_ “Open Thou the crystal fountain, _

_ Whence the healing stream doth flow.  _

_ Let the fire and cloudy pillar, _

_ Lead me all my journey through. _

_ Strong deliverer, strong deliverer, _

_ Be Thou still my strength and shield. _

_ Be Thou still my strength and shield.” _

When he crested the small rise, he stopped. His surroundings had morphed into an exact likeness of the small camp in the ranges at dusk, the first camping-spot they had found on that fated excursion with Bill all those years ago. 

Beside him stood horses - he recognised Monarch, grazing alongside Struan and Butterfly. When he looked down towards the other end of the clearing, he saw a group of people, sitting on log benches gathered about a fire. 

One of those figures stood, turning toward him, and then uttering a joyful shout. “Wal!” 

It was Jim, and Wally recognised his own mother rising to her feet behind his brother-in-law, her hands coming to her mouth. 

He turned and looked behind him - there was nothing but scrub. His heart ached for all that he was leaving behind: Davie and Nell, Little Billabong, and most of all - Norah. How he hated to make her take the slow path, to face life alone, without him there to shield her and support her. 

But happiness everlasting lay before him, and he knew that he would one day see her again, and on that day, they would be together forever more. 

And so, with her song in his ears and his heart, he went forward to take his place on the log benches, with his family and friends, and await her coming.

_ “When I tread the verge of Jordan, _

_ Bid my anxious fears subside. _

_ Death of Death, and Hell’s destruction, _

_ Land me safe on Canaan’s side. _

_ Songs of praises, songs of praises - _

_ I will ever give to Thee. _

_ I will ever give to Thee.” _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Norah's death... now I have to write Wally's. *gives you box of tissues*


End file.
